Behind Locked Doors
by Obsidian Sphinx
Summary: Thoughts about his longing for Quatre wander through Trowa's mind while the object of his desires plays expertly on his violin, and with a little shove from Duo, a couple is formed at long last. YAOI.


Disclaimer: Once upon a time, I lived in a fair sized house. Inside this house I spent way too  
much time on the computer. I wrote stories, and was forced to face the fact that I did not and still  
do not own Gundam Wing. I wrote these horrible disclaimers, but then I wrote the story and that  
made me glad, and so . . . I lived happily ever after. (And just in case all that crazy gibberish just  
now wasn't obvious enough, the moral of the story is . . . I don't own Gundam Wing ^_^,)  
  
Author's Note: Wow . . . ya know, often times I look back on those disclaimers and shake my  
head. (Sighs) I'm so pathetic. But anyway, you guys aren't here to read about how pathetic I am . .  
. at least, I hope not, because if you are . . . then you need to come with me and we'll BOTH get  
some psychiatric help. ^_^, Hm . . . anyway, this is the story. I should warn you that it is Yaoi, so  
if you have issues with that, then please, stop reading, I don't wish to offend anyone if I can avoid  
it. Um . . . let's see, I'd appreciate to hear what you think about the story, so if you'd be so kind as  
to send in some reviews, that'd just be dandy. Um . . . I'm all about flames, that's fine, roast me if  
you see fit to do so, or you could send happy reviews and make me smile, or you could just . . .  
hand me a little constructive criticism. Just do whatever makes you happy! Hopefully, I can  
return the gesture by making you smile when you read this! Okay, that's all for now! Happy Readings!  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Behind Locked Doors  
  
By: Obsidian Sphinx  
  
Sometimes I just watch him. That's all really. I just sit there (or stand I guess it really doesn't  
matter) and watch. He's just so perfect in every way, and no matter what he's doing it looks  
graceful. Hell, the air that surrounds him seems oddly serene.  
  
Right now he's practicing, not that he needs to. Quatre is a master at the violin. When he plays,  
every emotion he has flies out into the open. Whether they are painful or happy, they all come out  
in the clever disguise of a musical composition.  
  
Perfection. That's what he is. Personified perfection. I love that . . . I love him. I won't say  
anything though. It wouldn't be fair to him. He shouldn't have to worry and hurt because he  
rejected me. Quatre doesn't deserve that.  
  
"Hey Tro."  
  
I roll my eyes to the side to see Duo standing beside me. His voice is softer because he doesn't  
want to disturb Quatre.  
  
I don't respond, merely acknowledge his presence, but Duo is used to this. The only ones who  
will actually start a conversation are Quatre and Duo. Naturally, they are close. Actually though,  
Quatre has worked hard to become close to all of us. He's succeeded, I know. Although Heero  
and Wufei . . . and myself I guess, won't say so, Quatre is a valued friend. He understands things  
that we don't. He knows things about us that not even we ourselves do. It's odd knowing that, but  
comforting all the same.  
  
Duo sits down next to me, his normally present grin has vanished. Often he looks that way,  
expressionless, when Quatre plays. Duo has secrets . . . we all do, even Quatre. So many people  
think that he's weak and innocent. I think Heero and Wufei think so . . . maybe Duo too, I don't know.  
  
They're wrong though. Obviously they haven't noticed Quatre's eyes. They express everything in  
a confusing code that I don't believe even Heero could decipher. He's two different people and  
only shows us one side. . . he and Duo both. It's just that Quatre hides his other side more  
efficiently. Duo's comes out during battle. Quatre's comes out . . . never. It's there though.  
  
Suddenly, the music stops, and both Duo and I look up at Quatre, who smiles and winks. He goes  
about putting away the instrument, and I still watch. His back is turned to us, and Duo nudges my  
arm. I look at his now smiling face. His eyes look to Quatre then to me. Duo knows. He probably  
has known for quite some time. What can I do? I just ignore him. That's nothing unusual.  
  
But he is persistent and nudges me again. This time I look over at Quatre too. My cheeks grow  
slightly warmer, and I think I'm blushing. Duo's grin widens so that means that I must be.  
  
Thankfully, before anything else can happen, Duo's name is called from the other room. He looks  
up and sighs. Then he stands up and waves to me as he leaves. He closes the fine, oak doors  
behind him.  
  
I get up to leave, suddenly very uncomfortable with this situation. I go to the doors and turn the  
crystalline knobs. They barely move. I shake them again, but the doors won't open. Duo  
wouldn't! What am I thinking? Of coarse he would. He would and he did.  
  
I'm feeling rather panicked, which hasn't happened in some time. Suddenly, I feel a gentle hand  
on my shoulder. I look back to see Quatre smiling gently. His blue-green eyes glimmer in the  
dying sunlight that filters through the large bay window. I feel as though my heart it stopping,  
either that or bursting. Either one could end badly.  
  
"What's wrong?" Asks Quatre. He tilts his blonde head to the side ever so slightly. It was cute.  
  
". . . The doors are locked, I--" Then I feel his hand lye on my wrist and carefully, tenderly move  
it from the doorknob. He silences me in this way . . . all it took was his touch.  
  
Gently, he shakes his head. "No, not the doors Trowa. I'm asking what's wrong with YOU." He  
tells me, and still his smile plays on.  
  
My breathing quickens, and I curse his empathic ability. Knowing Quatre he'd felt something the  
entire time I was there. I search for an answer, or at least for something to say. How can I say  
anything? How can I tell Quatre that every second without him hurts? How do I go about  
explaining that he is the most important, and thus far, the most constant thing in my life? Easy. I  
know the answer. Three simple words: I love you. That's it, that's all I have to say . . . I can't.  
  
He startles me further when he takes my hands in his and pulls me over to the couch. All the  
while his beautiful eyes keep my own locked in their gaze. Together we sit down on the soft  
cushions, and his hand stays entwined in mine. I want to say something, but my mouth and my  
voice simply won't let me.  
  
"Trowa," he starts, "I know you're feeling something, but I don't know what. I want you to tell  
me. Don't be scared, and don't lie to me because I know when you are. Everything you say will  
stay here, with me, in this room. Trust me."  
  
I want to, I want to badly. I know I can, and I know he wants me too. I trust Quatre whole-  
heartedly. Nothing can change that. His expression begs me to speak. I can't though. It's strange.  
Normally, I can speak but choose not too. Now, I can't speak, but I have everything to say.  
  
"Trowa please . . . you keep so many emotions inside. I'm scared for you. Those emotions will  
tear you up. I can't bare to see that . . .I--"  
  
Something over comes me, and I pull my hand from his and gently caress his face. He leans into  
my touch. This action hits something in me, something I haven't felt in years. A stinging  
sensation pricks at my eyes, and tears fill them. I attempt to blink them away, but this only  
achieves more tears, and they begin running down my face.  
  
Quatre shakes his head softly. He wipes away my tears and moves closer. When he does this our  
lips almost touch. My heart beats rapidly.  
  
"Trowa . . . do you trust me?" He whispers.  
  
All I can do is nod. Suddenly, I feel Quatre's lips touch mine. Softly at first, and then he deepens  
the kiss. His tongue slides along my lower lip, demanding entrance to my mouth. I acquiesce. I  
can't believe what's happening. The very object of my desire is . . . kissing me?  
  
Eventually, we break away for air. We are both panting, but Quatre starts to chuckle and then  
right out laugh. I'm confused. There are several ways such an action can be interpreted. I am  
abruptly glomped by him, and he hugs me tightly.  
  
"Quatre . . ." And that's all I can mutter.  
  
Quatre continues to laugh. "I'm sorry Trowa. Laughing probably isn't the most reassuring thing to  
hear after something like . . . well that. It's just that . . . I've wanted to do that for so long. I've  
spent sleepless nights contemplating, worrying that you wouldn't accept me. And then I kiss you .  
. .and it was so easy . . ."  
  
Suddenly, his own eyes fill with tears. I'm scared. "Quatre, what's wrong?" I ask.  
  
He wipes his eyes. " . . . And I'm happy." He finishes.  
  
I smile. "Quatre," I say, "I love you."  
  
He looks at me, his expression surprised, and yet happy. I figure it would be intelligent to continue.  
  
"I always have. I love everything about you. I was so scared that you would hate me if I said  
anything. I promise you . . . Quatre, I love you."  
  
Quatre nods slowly as if hearing these words are unbelievable. Perhaps they are. He leans in for a  
quick, butterfly kiss, and his hands hold either side of my face. When he pulls away, his eyes are  
sincere and deep and beautiful. "I love you too Trowa." He says easily, and so seriously.  
  
Silence ensues. We just stare into one another's eyes for the longest time. The room begins to get  
darker as the sunsets outside. Quatre is beautiful bathed in the golden twilight. I'm so happy, so  
content, but thoughts creep into my mind, and Quatre seems to read them.  
  
I look away, but he catches my face and my gaze again. "Quatre, what about-- " He puts a finger  
to my lips.  
  
He gently shakes his head from side to side. "No Trowa, don't. Forget it all, forget everything for  
now. Right now, in this moment, we have everything we'll ever need. Nothing else matters here,  
all right?"  
  
I nod and pull him into a tight, comforting embrace. I hold him. Quatre is right. We've just found  
one another, why worry about the rest of the world? All we need is here. All we'll ever need to  
know is that the love we've both searched for, we found here, in this room, behind locked doors.  
  
-OWARI 


End file.
